i am strong (when i am on your shoulders)
by FandomlyCroft
Summary: One is a fierce companion trudging sloppily through life, and the other, a strong-willed independent trying to hold her head above the water. Both are tenacious, and both are broken. How could they not fall for each other? AKA The Clexa Fighter!AU that nobody asked for. Rated T for now, may change in later chapters. Give it a chance, yeah?
1. Chapter 1

_Thump, thump._

Lexa's staccato pulse pounds along her eardrums.

 _One, two._

The brunette's taped fists slam swiftly into the padded gloves of her trainer.

 _Thump, thump._

The sharp drumming of her heart blends with the steady slam of the padded material beneath her hands.

 _One, two._

She relishes in the periodic sting shooting through of her knuckles, in the constant tensing and subsequent uncoiling of her muscles.

 _Thump, thump. One, two. Thump, thump. One, two._

Her heartbeat, her fists, Lexa can't tell, Lexa can't _care_.

This feeling, this rush, this _high_ that comes with fighting is intoxicating, and it's moments like this -achy, and sweaty, and preparing herself for the upcoming match- where Lexa has never felt more alive.

A bead of sweat rolls down her temple and a scowl paints her lips on instinct as her trainer swings a lone pad towards the side of her face, forcing her to duck low beneath his outstretched arm to avoid the blow. She bounds out of the crouch quickly as he follows through on the swing; she easily catches the offending appendage, forcing it swiftly downwards, and driving her knee into the soft material coating his palm.

The two straighten and it begins again.

 _Thump, thump._

 _One, two._

 _Thump, thump._

One, two.

Jab, cross. Hook, uppercut. Throw in the occasional elbow. Jab, cross. Duck, knee strike. Over and over and over again.

In the far off recesses of reality, the brunette can faintly hear the hum of the voices belonging to the many occupants of the stands around her locker room, chatting excitedly as they await the next match -her match- but her mind refuses to register them.

Finally, her manager meanders into the room, informing her that it's show time.

Lexa crosses over to the bench on the other side of the room, palming a towel before swiping it across her face and behind her neck. Next she reaches for her water bottle, squirting a decent amount of the contents into her mouth.

The brunette turns to face the mirror on the wall, snatching an assortment of leather coats hanging from a hook, and expertly draping the surprisingly light material around her body. She then reaches to the second hook on the wall, which bears an armor-like plate that Lexa straps over the coats to lay across her shoulder.

She brushes her hand admirably along the length of the blood red fabric that falls from the metallic shoulder piece and trails the floor behind her.

Turning back to the task at hand, and to top off her attire, Lexa reaches back to the bench and grabs a small container of black face paint. She swipes the fingers of her right hand through the paint, accumulating a generous amount before raising it to her cheeks.

It takes her only a few moments to finish streaking the paint across her face as she's done countless times before; layering the skin from either side of the bridge of her nose, across the backs of her eyelids, to the beginning of her hairline with the dark substance, several thin waves trekking over her cheekbones to complete her "war paint" as her trainer had jokingly dubbed it.

A quick spray of water from her water bottle rinses the remaining bits of paint from Lexa's hands, and then the brunette tosses it across the room to her trainer, who catches it with ease.

The previously discarded towel finds itself a home perched over her trainer's shoulder as well, and Lexa places her hands on her hips, casting one last glance towards the mirror. The lithe brunette casts her eyes a final time along the length of her body in the pane of reflective glass, an invisible smirk painting her lips, before she turns and saunters out of the locker room, her trainer and manager in tow.

Lexa's eyes are fierce, the green orbs hard and unwavering beneath the intimidating splatter of paint coating her face as she halts momentarily in the alcove of the stands, lights shining brightly across the rows of seats in front of her as an upbeat tune begins blaring over the speakers, announcing her entrance to the audience.

Lexa rolls her neck to the side, relishing in the sharp _pops_ that echo in the air around her. The brunette then rolls her shoulders in a similar fashion, heaving a deep breath in through her nose and letting slide past her lips.

And then, she steps into the lights.


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh my gosh, I finally wrote another story! I'm so proud of myself. And it's a Clexa fic, too! Good shit right there. I know the intro chapter was pretty short, but I promise that rest will be longer, like this one.**

 **Shout out to tumblr user cassiniregio for inspiring me to write a Fighter!AU fic. I don't actually know him/her, but he/she ships Clexa and has cool story ideas so rock on, dude.**

 **I am notorious for not updating but reviews definitely help whip my ass in gear, and they make me feel good, so really, it's a win-win, right? Review!**

 **I'm my own Beta, so any and all mistakes are my own.**

 **This is most likely the only double update that you'll get, just a heads up. I had the first two chapters written out already.**

 **Let me know if continuing this is worth it, or if I should just scrap it.**

 **Disclaimer: I am not associated with The 100 cast or crew; credit for the TV series goes to writer Jason Rothenberg (unfortunately), and credit for the book series goes to author Kass Morgan. Also,** **to the extent of my knowledge** **, the cover art for this story was created by the operator of emclainable dot tumblr dot com, and I claim no ownership of anything but this story.**

 **...**

Taped heels pad silently across the floor, and two pairs of eyes follow the pacing form of Clarke Griffin.

The blonde has been wearing a decent sized hole in the floor for the better part of ten minutes now, hands perched on her hips, blue eyes trained on the floor, loose blonde locks shifting across her shoulders with each pass.

Raven is the first to speak. "You know, Griffin, if your plan for the night was to force whoever owns this building to replace the floor in here, I'd say you've done a pretty good job so far."

"Shut up, Raven," Comes the curt response, the blonde's eyes never leaving the floor. "Not all of us have the leisure of sitting on our asses right now."

Raven and Octavia catch each other's gaze, the latter's eyebrows raising in question before they turn back to the blonde.

"Clarke, seriously. We know you tend to get a bit nervous before fights, but this is different," Octavia says as Raven hums in agreement. "What's up? Who are you even fighting tonight?"

"I don't know!" Clarke halts her pacing and turns to face her friends. "Miller told me that Jaha scheduled my match tonight and he wouldn't even tell Kane what's going on. I have absolutely no idea what to expect tonight, and it's killing me!"

Clarke weaves her fingers through her hair, tugging slightly as she takes a deep breath through her nose, trying to quench the anxiety swirling through her stomach.

"Wait," Raven sits up a bit straighter on the locker room's wooden bench, " _Jaha_ scheduled your match tonight? Why on Earth would the CEO of Arcadia be scheduling matches for one of his fighters?"

"And then not tell his top manager? Something's definitely up," Octavia adds.

"You're telling me," Clarke grumbles.

The blonde slumps dejectedly onto the bench between her two friends, hunching over and palming her forehead with a sigh. Raven places a comforting hand on Clarke's shoulder.

"I'm sure everything will be alright."

"Yeah," Octavia chimes in, grinning, "They probably set you up with someone so easy to beat they didn't even want you to worry about it."

Clarke huffs a short laugh before rasping out a quick, "Thanks, guys."

The blonde straightens and turns to the locker behind her, snatching her shredded, ebony tank top (bearing multiple sponsors she had honestly never even heard of), slipping it easily over her neck and arms, and settling it atop her navy sports bra.

She reaches to tie her wavy hair back with an elastic band just as the door to her locker room opens.

Her manager, Marcus Kane, offers her a smile as he steps into her locker room. Clarke smiles back at him, but it drops immediately when her eyes find the man following Kane into the room.

Thelonious Jaha.

Her boss's boss.

CEO of Arcadia, the MMA company she had signed with several months ago.

 _Why the hell is he here?_

Clarke rises from the bench, stomach twisting with a renewed vigor. _Whatever he wants, it can't be good._

"Peace, Clarke," Jaha smiles and raises his hands to placate her, reading the unease on her face. "I'm sure you've been curious about my involvement in your match tonight, and I am here to explain."

Raven and Octavia share a look, and Clarke nods and slowly lowers herself to sit between them once more.

"Look, I'm not going to beat around the bush here. I think that being blunt will serve better than sugar coating everything," Jaha folds his hands behind his back. "Over the last several months, Arcadia has been falling dramatically in ratings, and frankly, we no longer have the resources to keep the company operating in the manner we are now," Jaha shrugs his shoulders, attempting to give off an air of nonchalance that Clarke sees through easily. "Financially, we cannot sustain ourselves as a company anymore. At least, not at the encompassment that we are running currently."

Kane, who is standing silently in the corner of the room, crosses his arms and lowers his gaze to the floor, but says nothing.

Clarke stares blankly, gaze shifting between him and Jaha, trying to comprehend just what exactly is being said, and how it involves her. "Wait, so," She furrows her brows, trying to understand, "My match tonight-"

"Will be your last as a representative of Arcadia."

Clarke's words die on her tongue as her heart plummets, and she barely registers Raven and Octavia's noises of outrage and protest.

The blonde couldn't bring herself to believe it. She had worked so hard to carry her career as a fighter to the point she was at now. Between countless hours of training, and dozens of grueling matches to prove her worth, she had _earned_ her right to be signed with Arcadia, and now, now they were getting rid of her to cut costs for the company? How could they do this to her?

A sickening sense of betrayal and disappointment swirl though Clarke, who drops her eyes in an attempt to drive off tears of anger.

"However," Jaha's voice sounds over those of Clarke's friends. He waits until Clarke looks up at him once more, and when she does, he is not oblivious to the unshed tears shining in her eyes. "I have spoken with the CEO of Grounder Enterprises."

 _That_ certainly garners Clarke's attention. Grounder Enterprises is _the_ go-to alpha company for MMA fighters all across the eastern United Sates. Comprised of twelve smaller 'companies within a company' so to speak, GE signs only the best fighters, and is the best way to make a name for yourself in the MMA world.

"The CEO will be present at your fight tonight, and if you can impress him, he's willing to sign you under one of his twelve companies. Trikrew, if memory serves me right."

"Needless to say, Clarke," Kane speaks up, "The importance of your match tonight cannot be overstated."

"Well," Clarke barks a humorless laugh, "If I wasn't worried about tonight already, I certainly am now."

"Clarke, think about what this could do for your future as a fighter. This opportunity could launch you farther than you've ever dreamed of going in this business-"

"Yeah, _if_ their CEO likes me! I had absolutely no idea what to expect from tonight, but it certainly wasn't this!" She rounds on Jaha once more, "You couldn't have told me any of this sooner? Given me a chance to prepare? I have absolutely no clue if I'm even ready for something like this. You know I'm not even one hundred percent committed to fighting right now, I'm still in school for Pete's sake! What if-"

"Clarke!" Octavia's voice cuts through the blonde's rambling. "Just think for a minute, would you? Yes, you're still working on a degree but you're almost done, and we all know that this is your real passion no matter how great a medical student you are."

"What if it doesn't work out tonight? What if the GE CEO doesn't want to sign me?"

"Then that'll be his loss. You can focus a bit more on school, train a little on the side, and wait for another opportunity to present itself."

"But-"

"O's right, Clarke," Raven supplies. "And if this doesn't work out tonight, you can still do some recreational stuff. We know you won't let something like this stop you from fighting."

"Knowing you, you'd probably join some street league."

Raven laughs and high-fives Octavia behind Clarke's back, adding, "Abby would have a field day with that."

That draws a chuckle from both Kane and Jaha, who are both very well aware of the nature of Clarke's mother, and Clarke even allows a wry smirk to pass over her lips.

"Never thought I'd see the day that you two were the voice of reason," Clarke snickers after a beat of silence, and her friends join in soon after.

After sobering up, the smile leaks off of Clarke's face, and she speaks again. "Who am I paired with tonight?" She directs the question to Jaha.

"To be honest, I don't remember the name, but I believe she's signed with Trikrew. "

"Is she any good?" Octavia asks.

"Well she's signed with a branch of GE, so she's obviously not horrible." Raven replies with an eye roll, gasping in offense when her fellow brunette reaches around Clarke to shove her.

"What the hell, O?"

"You're clearly not making her feel any better!"

"I was just-"

Clarke takes a deep breath, tuning her bickering friends out, and trying to process the happenings of the last several minutes. Her eyes flutter closed, her mind racing, and she takes another deep breath in an attempt to slow her breathing before she stands and holds a hand out to Jaha.

"Okay."

Raven and Octavia fall silent, looking up at the blonde.

Jaha grips her hand and smiles at her once more, and the blonde offers a small one in return. "Best of luck to you, Clarke."

"Thank you."

With that, the man turns, nodding once to Kane, and walks back out the way he came, the door shutting behind him with a quiet _thunk_.

"Dick."

"Octavia!"

"What?" Octavia makes a face, gesturing to the closed door in front of her. "He basically just said, 'You're fired, but good luck tonight! Have a nice life!' I mean, what kind of prick does that?"

"He's a good man. You should show a bit more respect."

At Kane's stern look, Octavia raises her hands in surrender but is saved from the task of responding when her phone chimes, and she busies herself with withdrawing the device from the pocket of her jacket while Raven and Clarke suffer through the tedious task of biting back their laughs.

"Raven, you and I better go find our seats. Bell says it's almost time for the fight to start."

"Bellamy's here, too?" Clarke questions.

Raven is the one to reply. "Yeah, he, Monty, Jasper, Miller, and Bryan all have seats in the front, same as us. I think Harper and Monroe came too." She grins at the blonde, "Everyone came out to see our girl kick ass."

Clarke smiles at knowledge that all of her friends had come out to support her.

"Finn and Wells have seats too," Octavia adds absentmindedly, attention still on typing out a response to her brother with Raven leaning over her shoulder watch.

Clarke stiffens at the mention of the two names but forces a tight smile onto her face, hoping that her friends are too occupied to notice.

"Okay, well, I'll meet up with you all after the fight."

"Sounds good! Let's go, Rae!" Octavia reaches over and yanks the blonde into a quick hug before grabbing Raven's arm and practically dragging her out the door.

"Kick ass, Griffin!" Raven shouts back to Clarke as she is pulled toward the stands, and the door slams shut behind her.

Clarke shakes her head and grins to herself at her friend's antics.

"Well," She looks up when Kane speaks to see him awkwardly running a hand through his shaggy hair. "I'll make sure everything is ready to go."

He smiles in her direction once more, acknowledging her nod, before turning and closing the door behind him.

In the brief moment the locker room door is open, Clarke can hear the faint sounds of music pumping through the arena, signaling that her opponent is making her way from her own locker room to the octagon.

Clarke breathes in another deep breath through her nose to steady herself and sits down on the bench again, pulling her phone from the duffel bag on the floor underneath her.

She has several missed messages from earlier in the night from her friends wishing her good luck, and a plethora of new ones buzzing in as she looks through the missed ones.

The new ones, it turns out, are in her group chat with none other than Raven and Octavia, who apparently feel the need to describe the girl she'll be meeting in just a few minutes detail by detail.

Before reading the incoming texts, Clarke rereads the few that were sent earlier in the night, rolling her eyes and grinning all the while.

 **Raven Reyes- 6:11**

 **clarke, where the hell is ur locker room, O's lost**

 **.**

 **Octavia Blake-6:11**

 **i am not, rae was trying to follow some hot guy and now she cant find her way back**

 **.**

 **Raven Reyes- 6:12**

 **details dont matter, O**

 **clarke**

 **.**

 **Raven Reyes-6:14**

 **earth to clarke**

 **.**

 **Clarke Griffin-6:15**

 **Southeast side of the building, behind the stands**

 **.**

 **Octavia Blake-6:15**

 **i** **told u so!**

 **.**

 **Raven Reyes-6:16**

 **ah shaddup u cheeri-O**

 **. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

 **Octavia Blake-6:55**

 **clarke this girl is HOT**

 **like, id totally tap that**

 **.**

 **Raven Reyes-6:55**

 **O's not kidding, griffin**

 **she's got some weird warrior princess thing goin on tho**

 **.**

 **Octavia Blake-6:56**

 **face paint too**

 **looks kinda like a raccoon?**

 **.**

 **Raven Reyes-6:56**

 **OMG it totally does!**

 **clarke u have GOT to come see this girl**

 **like ASAP, dude**

 **u know, before u bash her pretty face in**

 **.**

 **Octavia Blake-6:57**

 **she's literally gonna b out here in like 2 minutes u raisin**

 **.**

 **Raven Reyes-6:58**

 **…**

 **really?**

 **raisin was the best u can do?**

 **.**

 **Octavia Blake-6:58**

 **i hate u**

Before Clarke has the chance to reply to her friends' banter, the locker room door opens again, revealing Kane in the doorway.

"It's time to go, Clarke."

The blonde nods and puts her phone back in her bag, stands and crosses over to the door, heart beating rapidly in her chest all the while.

Kane gathers her equipment before joining her, and together they walk down the hall towards the pathway that will lead her to the octagon in the center of the arena.

Clarke tries to convince herself with each step that she's not walking towards the end of her career.

As young as Clarke is, she's not ready to be done in this industry.

She's not ready to let all of her hard work go to waste.

No, she _refuses_ to let all of her hard work go to waste, and _damn_ her if it goes without her having done everything in her power to preserve it.

Clarke sets her jaw and banishes the butterflies from her system.

In the face of an unknown adversary, Clarke steels herself, preparing for anything.

No one, and Clarke means _no one_ , is going to take her career away from her without a fight, _pun intended, damn it._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

 **Hey, guys! Thanks so much to those of you who favorited and followed this story! Review, please, and tell me what you think!**

 **No seriously, review.**

 **Pretty please? I'll send you a cake for your trouble. (Not really, I'd probably eat all of the cakes myself, but still.)**

 **...**

The magnitude of the crowd's cheering voices increases tenfold as Clarke shoves the doors leading to the area open.

The blonde takes several steps out into the open and halts, setting her shoulders and heaving a breath as the loud music echoing around the arena changes and the spotlights swing around to greet her.

In that moment her eyes fall upon the octagon, and more specifically, the girl in it.

She is unmoving, standing tall and expressionless as her green eyes meet the blue of Clarke's.

For a brief moment, Clarke's breath catches in her throat.

The girl is far from what she had been expecting, although Clarke can't recall just _what_ exactly that was at present.

The first thing Clarke notices when she finally manages to drag her eyes away from the startling green orbs, is the splatter of black paint coating the upper part of her face, drawing in additional attention from the wondering eye.

Brunette locks appear to be woven into braids that lay atop the girl's shoulders, stray bits highlighting a jawline that could have been sculpted by Aphrodite herself, Clarke thinks as her eyes trace along it.

Beautiful is the first word that rolls through Clarke's mind.

Intimidating is a close second, though Clarke won't ever admit that out loud.

The girl can't be much older than herself, Clarke muses, continuing her way forward. Kane follows closely behind, but the blonde pays him no mind. Clarke's attention is focused on the girl that will soon be throwing punches at her, and she abstractly finds herself wishing that she had met this beauty under other circumstances.

A quick mental shake of Clarke's head refocuses her thoughts, and she drops her eyes in an attempt to collect herself. The girl is attractive, yes, but Clarke cannot not allow such distractions to blossom in her mind. Tonight she is strictly business.

Clarke raises her eyes from the ground to meet the girl's own again, and the blonde almost has to force herself to take another step in the direction of the octagon.

The girl's own eyes are tracing along the length of Clarke's body as she approaches, tactically scrutinizing her as she herself was doing to the brunette mere moments ago.

 _Yes, tactically analyzing her. That's what I was doing._

Going back to her mental evaluation, Clarke notes that the girl is clothed in what the blonde can only describe as armor; leather and metal twist around her body in a way that would surely serve her well in battle. If she were ever in battle, that is. _Ugh, Clarke, focus._

Clarke is certain that the girl won't be allowed to fight in the armor, and that it's solely for intimidation purposes.

 _If this chick has anything going for her, it's intimidation tactics. I'll give her that._

A small smirk momentary lifts Clarke's lips as she recalls Raven's overall description of the girl as a 'warrior princess', and the blonde finds herself full-heartedly agreeing.

Finally, when Clarke stands only a few feet from the entrance of the octagon, she turns to face Kane. The blonde's manager has already deposited the majority of her gear cage-side, outside of her designated corner. Kane turns to Clarke and hands her a pair of light gloves that she quickly pulls over her taped hands, as well as a white mouthguard that will serve to protect her teeth.

The two make eye contact for a brief moment before Clarke pulls away and heads towards the steel stairs that will allow her to step up into the octagon.

Before she can take more than two steps up the stairs however, she feels an hand on her arm. Twisting around, Clarke is met with Kane's anxious face.

"Clarke, listen to me," His eyes draw away from her face, darting around the stands as if he were looking for someone.

 _He's looking for the CEO,_ she realizes, fighting the nervous urge to glance around the stands as well.

Kane's eyes are back on her own and he lowers his voice to a near whisper, "No matter what happens tonight, you deserve everything that you have earned in this business. _Remember that._ "

Clarke swallows, somewhat thickly, looking into the kind eyes of the man who had mentored her for the better part of the last year of her life.

Kane had taken her under his wing when she had started training, when other managers had scoffed and laughed at the young blonde who had walked into a mixed martial arts gym and announced that she wanted to learn how to fight.

Kane had trained her for months on end, constantly helping improve her skills and better herself. After nearly six months dedicated solely to training (and school, of course. Clarke knew that her mother would've killed her if her grades started slipping), Kane had set up a meeting with his boss, attempting to get Clarke signed with an actual company.

He had taken a chance on an unknown, a med student that had zero experience in fighting, who had nothing to offer other than an insurmountable determination to prove herself, and for that, she was eternally grateful.

As far as her MMA career goes, Clarke owes everything to this man.

"Thank you," the blonde whispers, sincerity dripping from the two syllables.

The corner of Kane's lips curls up in a small smile. "You can do this, Clarke."

Clarke smiles back at him and nods her appreciation.

She takes a deep breath before turning back to the octagon's entrance, stepping gracefully up the remaining stairs and onto the mat, tucking her mouthguard under the strap of her sports bra as she goes.

She walks the short distance to her corner, which has a blue banner bearing her sponsors draped across the side of the fenced-in ring. Kane stands on the other side with her gear, and nods encouragingly at her when she comes to a halt in front of him.

Clarke grabs at the hem of her tank top and pulls it over her head, tossing it over the top of the cage to Kane before adjusting her hair tie to give herself something to do.

The air in the arena is cool on her newly exposed abdomen and Clarke resists the urge to shiver, instead choosing to briefly trace her hands over her lean stomach, attempting to use the friction to warm the muscles up. When she hears a pair of wolf-whistles sound over the crowd's chatter that she just _knows_ came from Raven and Octavia, she shakes her head and grins to herself, resisting to seek out her friends in the crowd.

When a sudden spell of anxiety wafts through her, the easy smile leaks off of her face, and the blonde closes her eyes in an attempt to drive it off. Her breathing has shorted against her will, and suddenly the cool air seems more stifling than relaxing.

Taking a breath and willing the newest bout of nerves away, Clarke turns to face the other side of the ring, only to find that her opponent is watching her, regarding her intently, face as expressionless as when the blonde first saw her.

Clarke matches the look with one of her own, hoping she appears more confidant than she feels, and stealthy attempts to wipe her sweaty palms on her white athletic shorts (also bearing the many logos of her sponsors), forgetting that her hands are both taped and gloved.

 _When did I even start sweating? I was shivering a minute ago for goodness sake. Ugh, this whole thing sucks major ass._

Clarke stamps out her internal nervous rambling and holds eye contact with the other girl. After about thirty seconds of what's essentially a staring contest, the brunette tips her head to the side with the slightest quirk of her brow, one that would be imperceivable to most.

She turns to face the two people standing outside of her own corner, unaware as Clarke's eyes flicker along the length of her back.

Clarke watches as a man, _a very large man,_ strides away from the girl's corner and around to the octagon's entrance. The man walks, rather gracefully for his size, Clarke notes, over to her opponent, hardly even sparing the blonde a glance in the process.

Studying the man, Clarke occupies her nerves, giving her brain something other than her opponent to analyze. The man has braided brown hair, shaved at the sides and grown out in the back, twisted in a similar fashion to the many braids lining her opponent's own brunette locks. A long beard flows halfway down the man's chest, and he has two tribal tattoos decorating the space between his eyebrow and his ear on either side of his head, tracing down along the edges of jaw.

Clarke isn't sure if his presence is meant as another intimidation tactic, but _damn_ if this dude isn't the definition of intimidating.

Clarke's eyes fall back on the girl, who is swiftly unsnapping the few metal pieces off of her armor and handing them over to the large man, who takes them without a word. The girl then shrugs easily out of the leather coats, revealing a black sports bra and pair of red shorts similar to Clarke's own.

Without a forethought, Clarke finds her eyes tracing the curves of the girl's body, from the small bulges of muscle along her arms and shoulders, to the prominent abdominals that could have been shaped by an artist's hammer and chisel. (Clarke should know, she's an artist herself, but the blonde seriously doubts that she could create something as flawless as this girl's body.)

The girl's no body builder by any means, but she certainly is the picture of the perfect athletic physique.

She has a tattoo on her right bicep, Clarke notices, and though it is a distinct tribal pattern, it appears much more feminine than those on the large man next to her. When the girl shifts, Clarke thinks she sees another one along her spine, but cannot tell for certain before she moves again.

Realizing that she's been staring for far too long, Clarke flicks her eyes to the man once more, who is now crossing back to the octagon's entrance, carrying the girl's armor. This time, his eyes drift in Clarke's direction, and despite the hard lines of his face, the blonde can pick out an underlying kindness in his deep, brown eyes.

He exits the octagon, trudging back over to the outside of the girl's corner, and gently deposits her outfit next to what Clarke guesses must be the rest of the girl's things.

 **...**

 _ **In the stands surrounding the octagon…**_

 **...**

"Hey, Rae, is it just me, or is Clarke totally checking out Miss Warrior Princess?"

"What, like you aren't?"

Octavia lightly shoves Raven in the shoulder, grinning. "You are too, and we both know it."

Raven holds her hands up in surrender, grinning and holding back a laugh. "I never said I wasn't," She glances sideways, along the row seating their friends, and snickers. "Looks like almost everyone else is too."

The two brunettes share a chuckle before Octavia nods towards the ring. "Seriously though, I'm surprised she hasn't started drooling yet."

"Yeah, well Clarke's never been one for subtlety."

"True," Octavia agrees, giggling to herself and remembering the last time Clarke had taken a liking to someone.

A hand claps Octavia softly on the shoulder and a body thunks ungracefully into the open seat next to her.

"Hey, Bell. Thought you were lost. Almost sent a search and rescue team after you," Octavia grins at her older brother as he passes her a bucket of popcorn.

"Eh, you never know," Bellamy shrugs, "Could come in handy in a place like this," He mutters, turning and eying a few unruly patrons several rows behind them.

"You worry too much, Blake," Raven tells him, snatching a few popped kernals from her friend and ducking away when a hand swipes at her in retaliation. "C'mon, O, sharing is caring."

"Go get your own!" Octavia turns sideways in her seat, shielding her precious popcorn from the girl to her right.

"Why would I do that when I can just take yours?"

As the two girls bicker over the snack, Bellamy eases his hand towards his unsuspecting sister, withdrawing it with a fistful of popcorn moments later.

When Octavia finally relents and allows Raven to share the snack, she turns toward Bellamy, complaining through an exaggerated eye roll. "Can you believe her? I mean, who just takes someone's food without ask-" She freezes mid-word as she sees her brother's handful of popcorn.

"I-but…you-you," She glances back and forth between Bellamy's goodnatured grin, his handful of popcorn, and the bucket in her lap, mouth open in an incredulous gape.

Bellamy seizes the opportunity to reach over and stick a piece of popcorn into her open mouth.

"You- _ugh!_ " She lets out an exasperated groan, throwing her hands up and letting them fall back to her lap.

"Y'know, talking with your mouth full is rude, O," Raven laughs and high-fives Bellamy over Octavia's head.

"Bite me," Octavia snaps, slouching indignantly in her seat.

"Kinky," Raven winks at her friend and laughs as Bellamy shakes his head.

"Why do I even bother?" Octavia grumbles to herself, shoving several pieces of popcorn into her mouth.

 **...**

 _ **Back in the cage…**_

 _ **...**_

Clarke rolls her shoulders, easing the tension out of her muscles as she directs her eyes to the brunette once more. The girl's attention is not on Clarke however, it is on the two men outside of her corner of the octagon, the man who had just collected her armor, and another, the back of whose bald head is lined with ink similar to that of his companion.

The blonde is certainly _not_ watching the brunette's arms and abdomen flex as the girl reaches to tie her assortment of braids back into a loose ponytail, mind you. Tactical analysis, remember?

Clarke's 'studying' of the three is interrupted when a woman steps into the octagon.

The young woman can't be more than thirty or so, Clarke thinks, has long, straight, black hair and a sharp jawline, but otherwise neutral features. She turns and shuts the cage door behind her before making her way to the center of the mat.

"Ladies," The woman speaks loudly and gestures for both Clarke and her opponent to approach.

Any calm mindset that Clarke may have tricked herself into shatters, and her heart shoots into her throat, head rushing in panic.

Still, the blonde forces one foot in front of the other, bare heels padding shakily across the short distance to the center of the octagon. To most, the distance is but a few feet, but to Clarke, she's walking to the moon and back.

She comes to a halt just seconds after the brunette, and Clarke tries not to be distracted by the newfound proximity between the two of them, instead choosing to listen intently to the woman.

"Welcome, ladies," The woman speaks again, smiling at the pair of them. "My name is Cece, and I'll be your referee tonight. I'm sure you two have heard the rules a hundred times before, so I'll keep this short and simple."

Clarke nods, seeing the brunette do the same out of the corner of her eye. The rules were drilled into her during training; she knows them by heart.

"Protect yourselves at all times. No hair pulling, eye gouging, throat strikes, below the belt strikes, or small joint manipulation of any kind. Obey my instructions at all times. Failure to comply with my instructions will subject you to immediate disqualification. Understand?"

Both Clarke and the brunette nod again, acknowledging the basic rules.

"Alright then. Touch gloves."

Clarke holds her black coated fists out in the space between her and the brunette, and the other girl meets them with her own red ones.

"Good luck," The girl rasps quietly to Clarke, shimmering green eyes steadily holding contact with Clarke's.

Clarke ignores the shiver that rolls through her body at the girl's soft, unintentionally alluring voice, and replies with a short, "You too."

The referee, Cece, nods her head at the two girls. "Okay, let's have a good, clean fight, ladies. Back to your corners, the match will begin shortly."

Clarke tears her eyes away from the brunette's and walks back to her corner.

She faces Kane a final time before the first round, and clenches her jaw to banish the nerves buzzing throughout her body. He gives her a nod, and a small, encouraging smile that she cannot will herself to reciprocate.

The blonde pulls a deep breath in through her nose, tipping her chin skyward, hoping that if there's a god residing above, he's smiling down on her tonight.

Clarke slowly lets the breath out through her lips, and takes solace in the fact that the air current doesn't tremble on the way out.

She spins slowly on the balls of her feet, turning to face the girl on the other side of the cage just as the speakers roar to life with the announcer's deep voice.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" The crowd calls out loudly, encouraging him.

"Tonight, we have, fighting out of the blue corner, Clarke Griffin!" It could be her imagination, but Clarke swears the calls of her friends are louder than the rest of the arena's patrons combined.

Clarke takes a step toward the center of the octagon, rolling her shoulders a final time, a small grin on her face as she allows herself to look out into the crowd.

"And, fighting out of the red corner, Lexa Woods!" Again, the crowd's noise level surges.

The girl- Lexa, Clarke corrects herself- steps forward as well, but shows no signs of acknowledging the crowd, instead popping the knuckles on her hands and watching Clarke from beneath her long lashes.

Clarke stares back at her, clenching her jaw once more before pulling her mouthguard from its resting spot and sliding it into her mouth. Lexa does the same, a black mouthguard to Clark's white.

A loud thumping sound fills around the arena, fast and steady, blending with the cheers of those watching. Clarke glances around curiously without moving her head, wondering why the girl across from her, and the dozens around them, for that matter, don't seem the least bit concerned about it.

It's then Clarke realizes that the thumping is the blood pounding through her ears, and through the noise, she barely registers the echoing sound of the metal hammer striking the ring bell.

 **A/N:**

 **Wow, so, this chapter was** _ **supposed**_ **to be the fight, but I guess my brain had other ideas. Anyway, it'll definitely be in the next chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading! Let me know what you guys think, and if you have any ideas that you'd like to see sprout up sometime in the story; I'd love to hear!**

 **Till next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

 ** _(So, this chapter's been done for like a week and a half, and I forgot to upload it because studying for all of my finals is kicking my ass! Sorry!)_**

 **Thank you so much to those who have followed, favorited, and reviewed this story!**

 **Please, please, please review! Review and tell me what you think about the chapter, about the story itself, or about any ideas you may want to see incorporated into future chapters.**

 **Tell me what you ate for breakfast, or what your favorite animal is, or what your least favorite sport is, tell me** ** _anything_** **.**

 **That's how desperate I am for reviews.**

 **So….review, yeah?**

 **...**

The shrill clang of the bell barely registers in Clarke's mind before Lexa is striding toward her. The blonde curses herself for spacing out as she draws backwards, several steps back from the swiftly approaching brunette.

Her hands snap instinctively into place, steadily shifting back and forth through the air in front of her collarbones as she eyes Lexa, who has settled into a neutral stance a foot or so away from her.

Clarke slides her left foot behind her, rotating her hips to match her opponent's stance while favoring her dominant side.

The two girls circle slow steps around one another, each searching the other for weaknesses with cautious eyes.

It's Lexa who finally throws the first punch, snapping out a fast jab aimed at Clarke's chin. Clarke expertly drops her weight onto her back foot, flexing her abdominals and twisting out of the way as the brunette's fist slides past her ear.

Lexa pulls her fist back in just as Clarke throws a punch of her own, her black glove bound for the flesh of the brunette's stomach.

With a practiced grace, Lexa's hand intercepts the blonde just above the wrist, forcing it to the side while simultaneously bringing a foot up to strike at Clarke's shin. The blonde jerks backwards, away from the brunette, resetting her feet and trying to anticipate the next move.

After several moments of carefully watching Lexa, circling around the girl's attempts to get closer to the blonde, Clarke steps forward again.

She leans heavily on her front leg and lashes the other toward Lexa's shin, releasing a frustrated breath when she is met with nothing but air once more.

Clarke swings again, a simple jab swiftly followed by a strong hook, and Lexa's forearms successfully rise to intercept the hits.

The brunette takes a calculated step back, and Clarke advances, swinging for the fences. Each fist is forced aside, having failed pathetically in its mission to make contact with anything other than Lexa's gloved hands.

The blonde's determination has visibly spiked, her frustration peaking as she puts more and more force behind each unanswered blow.

Lexa ducks as a powerful hook flies toward her left ear, retaliating with a knee that Clarke knocks away from her midsection with the heel of her hand.

Exhaustion finally forces Clarke to take a step back. She shifts into a more defensive stance, trying to catch her breath as Lexa steps in towards her again.

A bead of sweat rolls down Clarke's temple and she sucks in a sharp breath around her mouthguard, and this time when Lexa's arm snaps out, gloved hand a speeding projectile aimed her at cheek, the blonde barely manages to parry.

She retaliates just a beat later, feinting a hook toward Lexa's waist with her right hand. When Lexa leases an arm to block the blow, Clarke steps in closer, curling her left arm into an uppercut that _finally_ connects with her opponent's side. Clarke can hear the faint breath as it stutters its way out of Lexa's mouth, and she presses her advantage as the girl draws back, hastily shifting to remedy her mistake.

Around them, the crowd rears in excitement at the first successful hit, encouraging Clarke as she swings again.

The brunette is ready for it, however, and easily sidesteps while countering with a powerful kick that Clarke doesn't see coming. The front of Lexa's bare foot lands on the back of her lower thigh, and her knee buckles under the force of the blow.

Off balance, Clarke stumbles onto her non-dominant leg, dropping her guard for a fraction of a second as she attempts to remain standing. Lexa presses, clenching the muscles of her arm and driving a swift combination of fists into the blonde's abdomen.

Clarke's teeth dig into the mouthguard as sparks of pain blossom through her torso, and she retreats a step, but Lexa does not back down. She launches another jab toward Clarke that the blonde deflects while throwing out an arm of her own, catching the brunette just above the elbow.

If Lexa is fazed, she doesn't show it.

The girl ducks under a second attempted hit, fingertips swiping along the mat. Using the two's close proximity and her newly leveraged position low to the ground, Lexa lunges forward, and Clarke realizes a moment too late that she's backed too close to the cage. The brunette's toned thighs tense visibly, her various back muscles rippling as she drives her shoulder into Clarke's stomach, ramming her into the cool metal of the cage behind her.

An uncontrollable groan pushes through Clarke's lips as her back makes contact with the harsh surface, but the sound is largely covered by the clang of the cage and the roar of the crowd.

 **...**

 ** _In the stands surrounding the octagon…_**

 **...**

A collective noise, not solely cheer nor groan for that matter, erupts from the already wild audience as supporters of each girl shout their encouragement.

Raven, Bellamy, Octavia, and the rest of Clarke's friends grimace, willing the blonde to hold out for the remainder of the first round.

"Well," Finn speaks from his place beside Raven, "At least we know she'll have a decent career in the medical field. It's something to fall back on when all this is pulled out from underneath her."

"Shut the hell up, Collins," Octavia barks from Raven's other side without taking her eyes off of the match, watching as Clarke attempts to roll out from under the brunette, who is still pressing the blonde to the cage.

"I'm just saying," The boy starts, halting momentarily as the group lets out a collective wince, watching as Lexa pulls back and rams her shoulder into their friend a second time. "She's not doing too well."

"It's the first round, Finn," Raven snaps at him, "Give her a chance."

Everyone watches as Clarke flings a sloppy punch toward Lexa's hip, desperately attempting to free herself. This earns the blonde an awkward, yet powerful hook to her side, and they can all see the pain written in her face.

"Look at her though!" Finn gestures toward the cage. "She's not getting any hits in, and Mr. Big Shot CEO of 'Grounders 'R Us' or whatever the hell it is won't be impressed! She's usually so much better than this. I don't know what's wrong with her, but I _never_ thought it was a good idea for her to start-"

"Finn, I swear to-"

"Look, Collins-"

Raven and Octavia start to defend their blonde friend at the same time, but both are cut off by a fourth voice booming over the both of them.

"Shut it, all of you!" Bellamy directs a dark glare at Finn. "You should support her whether she wins or loses, so stop bitching."

"I just-" Finn starts to speak again.

"Everyone has off matches, Finn," Miller, a fellow fighter, chimes in from his right, jaw clenched in irritation. "That doesn't mean she won't pull through."

"Hey, I'm just worried about her. I didn't mean-"

"Clarke will be _fine,_ " Miller practically spits at Finn, clenching his fist, angry that someone who's supposed to be Clarke's friend is so quick to call the match out of her favor.

"Easy, Nathan," Bryan reaches over and rests a hand on Miller's shoulder. His eyes flick to Finn, and then back to his boyfriend. "It's not worth it."

"Yeah, you're right," Miller responds after a moment's pause, crossing his arms over his chest and directing eyes back to the match. He addresses Finn again without taking his eyes away from the octagon, "This is about supporting Clarke, not being a whiny asshole because she dumped you."

Finn, enraged at the remark, opens his mouth to snap a rebuttal, but Bellamy clears his throat sharply, silently warning Finn to drop it.

Finn feels the muscles in his face twitch in anger and clenches his jaw to hold back a verbal reply.

He eyes the timer on the monitor above the octagon, watching as the seconds tick off, mocking and impossibly slow.

His attention turns back to the cage just in time to see- and hear- Clarke's back slam roughly onto the mat, with the other girl quickly clambering over her to pin her legs down.

 **...**

 ** _Back in the cage…_**

 **...**

Clarke's mind is working furiously to find a way out of her predicament.

Still pressed up against the cage with the twisted metal digging sharply into her spine, back searing in pain, the blonde desperately throws a loose fist into Lexa's hip, but with the angle, she can tell it does little, if nothing at all.

Lexa rears an arm back and slings it into Clarke's side, and a jagged breath leaks through the blonde's lips as the muscles in her face contort, pain etched into the soft lines.

After several more moments of awkwardly attempting to grapple her way off of the wall, rather unsuccessfully truth be told, Clarke sees Cece finally step up and tell Lexa to move her off of the cage.

The brunette pulls back, straightens her spine (which is splattered with several tattoos, Clarke notes absentmindedly), and stalks around the referee, shoulders shifting dangerously in a cat-like manner as she trains her fierce, unwavering gaze onto Clarke's.

The relief that floods through Clarke as the girl moves away and allows her back a reprieve is short-lived, however, when Lexa charges at her from several feet away.

The brunette crosses the octagon before Clarke even has the chance to raise her hands in defense, and Lexa's shoulder strikes her abdomen again. Clarke's left foot leaves the ground as one of the brunette's hands locks around her knee, and Clarke is gripped by a sudden panic.

She flails an arm to the side and tries to force her foot back to the mat, but Lexa isn't giving in.

The girl's free hand latches onto the back of Clarke's sports bra for support, and the brunette is quick to slam Clarke into the cage again, but she quickly shifts her weight backwards, spinning her hips to pull Clarke with her, using their shared momentum to fall to the mat on top of the blonde.

As she falls, momentarily weightless in the air, Clarke can hear Lexa's faint grunt of effort, which is serenaded by the rapid thumping of her own heart.

Her eyes are almost comically wide, she knows, and when she finally hits the ground, Lexa's weight on top of her, they snap shut as her skull slams against the mat.

The impact leaves Clarke's dazed, rendering the blonde momentarily unable to do anything but lay spread eagle on her aching back. She groans and weaves a hand into her hair, clenching her fingers painfully tight around the loose blonde strands, as if the action will cancel out the almost unbearable pounding in her head.

She needs to get off of the ground, Clarke knows she does, but in this moment she can't bring herself to do anything but lay there, willing her aching body to cooperate with her.

There's a high-pitched ringing in her ear that she knows isn't coming from the ring bell, and her vision swims in and out of focus as she shakily pulls breaths in around her mouthguard.

She is vaguely aware of a weight shifting across her legs as she blinks up at the lights, and then Lexa's face swims into view, followed by a pair of fists.

The first one lands across her chin, the blonde's head snapping sharply to the side, and another hits the area around her left eye seconds after, and Clarke feels the skin split underneath the set of cool knuckles. A stinging pain blooms across her face and Clarke sees the dark blood coating Lexa's glove as it pulls back for another blow.

"Protect yourself, Blue," She hears Cece's voice off to the side a moment later, just as another punch slams into her already burning face.

Through the clouds muddling her mind, she somehow manages to drag an arm up in front of her face to block the next rapidly descending hand.

Raising her other fist, Clarke swings her left hand at a soft spot in Lexa's thigh, which is currently digging into her side. It connects easily enough, but for her efforts, Clarke earns a jarring punch to the solar plexus.

Clarke gasps, struggling to pull air into her lungs. Another jab grazes her face despite her best efforts to block it, and her arm thumps to the mat as the muscles in her shoulder give in to her exhaustion.

"Blue," Cece warns, and it takes all the strength that Clarke can muster to lift her arms in front of her again as her chest heaves with the effort of drawing a breath.

Figuring that this is her last chance to pull herself from the chasm's edge, Clarke steels herself before throwing a stark uppercut into the brunette's abdomen.

Lexa's exclamation of pain comes off as a yelp and her mouth clamps shut almost immediately to contain the small sound. The skin of her face tightens against the strain of the brunette's mandible, and Clarke is not at all distracted by the sudden strange desire to trace her fingertips over the girl's jawline.

 _God, Clarke, now is literally the_ worst _time to be thinking about this,_ Clarke scolds herself while sloppily dodging a retaliatory blow, _The girl is basically trying to turn your face into ground meat and you're checking her out?_

The blonde grits her teeth against the rubber of her mouthguard and tenses her upper body, jerking it awkwardly to the side as Lexa's arm descends towards her once more. Lexa's fist slams into the mat where the blonde's head had been and the brunette's eyes flash at the stinging pain.

Adrenaline rushes through the blonde's body and limbs that had given up on her mere moments before snap back into action, strong and steady.

Lexa's back hunches as she looms over the blonde, but before she can pull back, Clarke swings her left arm over the girl's right, locking it against her side while simultaneously throwing every remaining bit of energy into a hook that connects with the side of the brunette's unprotected head.

The girl's body slumps to Clarke's left in an obvious daze and Clarke rolls underneath her without hesitation, managing to flip the brunette onto her back, turning the tables.

Sliding into a sturdy position on her knees and bracing herself on the balls of her feet, Clarke leans her weight into Lexa, whose legs are still locked around her waist, effectively pinning her back to the mat.

The blonde rears a hand back, curling it into a fist, swiftly bringing it down across the brunette's paint-smeared face before pulling back to do it again, and again, as rapidly as possible.

After only a hit or two, Lexa seems to somewhat recover, curling her head under her forearms and blocking most of the blows from dealing any serious damage. Still, Clarke keeps going, breathing heavily and doing her best to ignore the pain that stabs at her with each twist and turn of her body as the adrenaline slowly dissipates from her veins.

After another several seconds a bell rings, signaling the end of the first round, and Cece's hand is on her shoulder, ready to pull her away from the brunette if need be.

Clarke gasps out a breath and rolls sideways off of Lexa, resting on her knees and forearms momentarily, and when she rises she practically has to peel her sweat covered limbs from the mat.

She stumbles on shaky legs towards her corner, where Kane has already perched a stool for her sit on. Clarke practically falls onto it, body slouching exhaustedly as she reaches for the water bottle next to her.

The blonde swirls the liquid around her mouth, and Kane is immediately beside her with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a cue tip. He sets about gingerly, but rapidly cleaning the cut across her eyebrow, attempting to stop the bleeding.

"You're doing great, Clarke," He tells her, and she scoffs, ignoring how the movement pulls at the torn skin on her face.

"If by 'great' you mean getting my ass kicked, then, yeah, I agree completely," She speaks around her mouthguard, a slight lisp tinging her words.

"Off rounds neither make nor break a match, Clarke, they simply make it more exciting," Kane recites, voice calm yet chastising.

"I know, I know," Clarke sighs, having heard this particular line numerous times during training.

Kane pulls away, resting the heels of his hands on the young girl's shoulders, not speaking until she raises her eyes to meet his own.

"Clarke, listen to me. This match isn't about winning or losing. It's about showing your skill, showing how far you've come in this industry," He takes a quiet breath, brown eyes searching Clarke's blue. "Don't do this for the CEO. Don't do this for me, or Thelonious, or your friends. Do this for you."

"But, I-"

"Clarke, do you remember what you told me when you first started training? Why you had so suddenly taken such a keen interest in learning how to fight?"

"My father," Clarke swallows and looks away as Kane nods sympathetically.

"You came to me that day for all of the wrong reasons," Clarke's uninjured brow twitches but she remains silent, "And I know that you never planned on becoming so enthralled in this sport. But, Clarke, I know that you've done all of this for him."

Clarke rolls her tongue along the back of her mouthguard, resisting the urge to hiss out the details that next to nobody knows in regards to her initial interest in the MMA world, the elephantine details that only the man in front of her is privy to.

"And, Clarke, about that night-"

"No!" The blonde's bark is loud enough that she sees Lexa's head swivel her way to investigate the commotion. Clarke doesn't spare her a glance, eyes firmly locked on those of her manager.

"No," She repeats, the same magnitude of venomous force dripping off of the word despite the fact that she turned the volume down at least three notches. "You swore that you would never bring that up again."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Kane raises his hands to placate the blonde, glancing over his shoulder a moment later when Cece signals it's time for the managers to exit the cage.

He rises from his crouch and Clarke follows a beat later, standing from the stool that Kane promptly reaches to pick up, along with her water bottle.

Kane sees the large man across the octagon- the man he assumes is the other girl's manger- stand as well, swiftly gathering the brunette's equipment before leaving.

The blonde's manager swallows, turning to follow him out.

Looking back at Clarke, he whispers out parting words that he hopes are reassuring:

"Jake has always been proud of you. Win or lose tonight, discontinue your career or not, that simple fact will never change."

His feet begin to propel him towards the open door, but he stops and turns back when he feels a hand on his forearm.

"I'm not doing this for him," Clarke's eyes are glassy, shimmering with tears that Kane knows the blonde will not allow to fall as she firmly sets her brow.

It's then that Kane sees the fire burning behind the wall of liquid encased in her eyes, the steadfast determination that he could have sworn hasn't made an appearance, at least not at such an intense magnitude, all night.

"I wanted to learn to fight so that I could do something; I thought that it was what he would have wanted me to do, to avenge his death, to find out the truth however I could," Clarke looks over when Cece gestures once again for Kane to leave, and speaks more rapidly, trying to get her point across.

"I started this because I thought I had to. I applied to medical school because I thought I had to. Everything I have done in my life I have done because I wanted to please my mother, to do right by my father, but now…This is what I want to do. This is what I'm good at."

She releases Kane's arm, taking a step back, eyes alight with a burning, passionate determination. "I'm doing this for me."

 **...**

 **A/N:**

 **Wow, I am literally trash. This chapter was supposed to be the whole fight, but instead my brain decided to crap out 3,500 words for the first round alone.**

 **I swear there is an actual storyline here, I just can't get my brain to focus long enough to do everything I want to do. Ugh, we'll get to the plot eventually, I guess.**

 **Thanks for reading, be sure to drop a review!**


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